Picking up The Pieces - Pieces of the Heart #3
by GeekGirlz-R-Us
Summary: After Buffy's death, Dawn heads to L.A. to Angel to remember Buffy and try to heal only another Sunnydale resident shows up unexpectantly


PICKING UP THE PIECES  
  
"Pieces of the Heart" series, Part 3  
  
S. J. Smith (laughnfx@yahoo.com)  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them but I'm glad Joss lets me play in his sandbox. Thanks, Joss!  
  
A.N.: This went A.U. with "Blood Will Tell", the second in the series.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
Angel lay awake, staring at the ceiling of the room he'd chosen for himself in the Hyperion Hotel. It was his first chance at being alone and he wanted to wallow in it. He wanted to let the grief he'd been bottling up overwhelm him. Instead, his mind kept running like a rat in a maze, with what-if's and if-only's. It was bad as the others, conspiring against him, not letting him relax enough to let the sorrow come.  
  
Downstairs, finally, all was quiet. Maybe Cordelia was working on the computer or making phone calls. Maybe Wesley was attempting to follow up on the leads they needed to make contact with Lindsey. Maybe Gunn was taking Fred out to remind her what the city looked like and to try to reach her family.  
  
Maybe the world would end in a few minutes and all this wouldn't matter.  
  
Dawn had already made up a bed in another of the rooms and had fled there after actually eating something. Angel had followed her. A part of him thought maybe Gunn should go, he'd lost his sister just the previous year and it would give them a little connection. But Angel knew it would have to be him and he'd sat on the edge of her bed, weaving his fingers together, staring at her back as she lay there, facing the wall. She didn't cry.  
  
Angel knew he ought to be worried about that but maybe Dawn was all cried out. So he sat next to her on the bed, listening to her breathe, accepting by her hunched shoulders she didn't really want him there. What she wanted, who she wanted, well, that was another matter. He wanted the same thing Dawn did, a way to reverse time.  
  
There was no way to say, "Buffy's in a better place" or any of those other platitudes people handed out when someone died. Angel thought maybe Slayers deserved Valkyries to take them to the afterlife but Buffy would be stubborn enough to insist on her own horse. He almost grinned at the thought, the idea of his girl in a fight with the gods. But that was what she'd been in and it sobered him. Buffy hadn't walked from the battle.  
  
"She still thought about you."  
  
Dawn's voice had startled him out of his reverie, so much so that he wasn't even sure what she'd said, just that the noise had come from the huddled form next to him. "What?" he asked, dumbly.  
  
"She still thought about you." Dawn rolled over then, lacing her fingers together tightly, maybe so she wouldn't have to touch anything. Maybe so she wouldn't touch him. That could be like asking for comfort. She might not be ready for that. She lifted her hands into her line of sight, blocking him out as she picked at the pink polish coating her nails. Flakes fell onto her chest and she ignored them. "She never really said anything but I knew."  
  
He wondered if he should speak or let the level of pain carry him along. Dawn decided for him.  
  
"Riley left her just before her birthday. He left because, well, a lot of things, I guess. But you were one of the reasons. He had some real issues about you, Angel." Her eyes flicked over her hands at him then back. "And Dracula, but you know, king of vampires and everything."  
  
Dracula? What did Dracula have to do with anything?  
  
"And Buffy missed Riley, you know, but not like she missed you." Dawn fixed him with a baleful eye. She sat up suddenly, poking a finger into his chest. "And you, you didn't even remember her birthday this year. Would it have killed you to call? You know how she feels about her birthdays since..." Dawn ran out of words and poked him harder. "Couldn't you have at least had Cordy pick out a card and sign your name to it and send it to her?" She swallowed hard.  
  
"I..." What had been happening then? Darla, of course. But that night, Lorne had come to ask for his help in stopping the end of the world.  
  
"Don't tell me you forgot," Dawn said, her voice thick. She slapped his chest. "Don't tell me that. I know you wouldn't. You remember my birthday every year and I'm just the bratty kid sister. There's no way in hell you would've forgotten Buffy's."  
  
Angel remembered he and Buffy taking Dawn to the fair for her birthday and both of them winning stuffed animal after stuffed animal for the younger girl. They'd made it a competition to make Dawn laugh, see who could do the most outrageous stunt shooting, whether darts, basketballs or baseballs to win the prize. Dawn gave most of the toys to other children but kept two back, one from each of them. The fact that it didn't really happen, that he and Buffy never took this girl anywhere together, didn't matter. False memories were better than none, sometimes.  
  
"Things were going on, Dawn," he said quietly. "Buffy didn't need to hear from me then, trust me. She wouldn't have wanted to."  
  
"Is that what you're telling yourself?"  
  
"It's all I can do."  
  
"It's not enough," Dawn said, turning away abruptly.  
  
No, it wasn't. And there was no way for him to make it up to Buffy now. No empty gestures of devotion come too late, like the granite headstone he couldn't bring himself to visit, though he'd already seen a florist, paying in advance for the delivery of a new rose, every day. He remembered the young woman's face as he handed her a wad of bills, more money than she'd probably ever seen in her life, to pay for those flowers. Her soft protest, "But this will buy roses for fifty years, sir."  
  
"I'll be back when that runs out," had been his reply.  
  
Was Dawn right or was her grief turning into anger against him because he was here, not her sister?  
  
Angel could understand that all too well. He wished Buffy were here, too, to put her arms around her sister and comfort her. He didn't even know what to say to Dawn. With Buffy, words weren't always necessary. When he had come to her after Joyce's funeral, they didn't speak for a long time. Buffy didn't need the words.  
  
He reached out across the chasm of the bed, laying a hand on Dawn's shoulder and squeezing it gently. She startled, staring down at his hand like it was an alien thing and patted it clumsily. "I think I want to sleep now," she said.  
  
"All right. I'll be right down the hall, if you need anything." Angel hesitated. "You know, to talk. Or...you know."  
  
"Yeah." Dawn roused herself.  
  
He squeezed her shoulder again and slid off the bed, walking out the room. He heard a faint, "Thanks," from the young woman.  
  
"You're welcome," he said and went on to his own bed.  
  
Now he lay in it, trying to make sense of this. It didn't make sense. Nothing did, anymore. Mother and daughter, a family destroyed in a matter of months. Soon a new Slayer would be called to her destiny and eventually, she would die. And he was supposed to keep on fighting the good fight.  
  
What had Willow said to him? "There's a Buffy-shaped hole in my heart. No one will ever fit there again. It'll be patched but that's all. It won't really heal, not ever."  
  
"If I'd been there." Angel surprised himself by speaking the words out loud, finally. Willow had tried to comfort him, telling him he couldn't have helped. And he'd needed to rescue Cordelia. Buffy would've understood, maybe not that he went after Cordy but that she needed rescuing, that he couldn't leave her in another dimension. He allowed the thought that Willow could be wrong to bloom fully in the privacy of his room.  
  
Seventeen months. He'd given her seventeen months of life by asking the Oracles to take back his humanity. He'd seen her three times in those seventeen months and none of those times had been pleasant. He didn't even dare compare them to the memories of the day that wasn't. It only led back to those "if-only's" he was trying to avoid. If he'd been there, fighting at her side....  
  
But the truth was Buffy had always faced the true dangers alone. Angel knew that. He might've kept some of the bad guys off her back to let her go into the fray with confidence but she'd fought the Master alone. She fought the Mayor alone. Hell, she'd even fought him by herself, though Spike got Dru out of the way.  
  
There was only one Slayer. Everyone else was second string, even him. Yeah, he'd managed to avert the end of the world but not by battling some demon, by talking a guy out of it. "Some hero," Angel said, scoffing.  
  
Someone knocked. "Angel?" Cordelia asked. "Are you...awake?"  
  
He rolled off the bed and opened the door. "What?" he asked, none too gently.  
  
Her big eyes got wider. "Um, you know, we have...a case we need to go over," she said.  
  
"All right," he said. "I'll be down."  
  
"You will? I mean, great! Great! Don't take too much time, now," Cordelia said, shaking a finger at him before she disappeared back down the stairs.  
  
Sighing unnecessarily, Angel descended after her. There were no open cases, no souls needing saving that he particularly knew about.  
  
He could hear the others moving around the lobby, hear the hushed whispers. They seemed to come from far away. Gunn's deeper voice, Wesley's; slightly more in control, Cordelia's plaintive, "But we have to do something. He can't just go on like this, like a-a robot in Angel-clothes. It's worse than when he was dreaming of Darla!"  
  
Angel was surprised that had the capacity to sting. "He can still hear," he said mildly, just to watch Cordy jump. She whirled, her face drawing in irritation.  
  
"Ooo," she said, her fingers spreading and clenching in reaction to her surprise. "I hate it when you do that."  
  
He gave her a very faint smile, not up to the game anymore. "If you don't really need me, I'll go back upstairs."  
  
"You can't,"Cordelia said, darting in front of him, looking to the other two men for help. "We, we've got a case!"  
  
"Yes, a case," Wesley said, moving to stand behind her. Gunn nodded and took his place with them, a united front.  
  
Deep down, Angel was touched. He knew he'd remember this later, when he finally snapped out of it. Now, he wished they'd give him the space to simply be, let alone mourn. And the loss of Buffy from this world was something that needed mourning. It needed wailing women and dogs howling and an eclipse to blot out the sky. The stars needed to fall like the tears he couldn't weep.  
  
But his friends stood in front of him, effectively blocking his way to sanctuary, his room. "All right," he said, folding his arms. "What case?"  
  
Cordelia flipped a glance at Wesley, who stared back, his eyebrows rising. They both turned to Gunn, who spread his hands in an I-don't-know-think-of- something kind of way. Cordy snapped her fingers. "Oh! Oh! Um, that guy, who came in the other day! Remember?"  
  
Wesley blinked at her and she made a face, jerking her head towards Angel. Wes' expression cleared. "Yes, that man," he said, nodding. "He, um, was having trouble with," he elbowed Gunn, who stared at them both. "With?" Wesley prompted.  
  
"Uh, vampires?" Gunn said, then his voice firmed up. "Yeah. Vampires. Whole nest of 'em. Far as the eye could see." He was getting into his role now, spreading his arms out, his stance becoming one of a predator, hunting its natural prey. "Dangerous." He stopped, as if he realized how he looked and straightened back into his customary stance. "Course, you told all the bloodsuckers to get out of your city, didn't you?"  
  
The doors opened and the trio turned to stare at what might walk in, Cordelia hopeful, Wesley and Gunn a little more circumspect. Cordy's face took on a horrified expression. "You?" she all but shrieked. "Where're the stakes?"  
  
That dragged Angel back from wherever he'd been during their little play. These three still needed his protection, his strength, him. He spun around, ready to face Darla and Dru, wishing he had a weapon handy, setting himself for battle.  
  
Not two women, but one man standing on the steps, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, a cigerette dangling from one corner of his mouth. The smoke drifted lazily overhead, disappearing into the darker recesses of the high ceiling. He popped the cigerette from his mouth, taking in their expressions. "That's some sort of welcome," he said.  
  
"Spike," Angel grated out the name.  
  
"Spike!" Cordelia ran up to Angel. "Shouldn't you stake him or something?"  
  
"Hold on there, cutey," Spike snarled, "can't a man say his piece first? Or do you stake anyone who walks through these doors?"  
  
"We'll make an exception for you," she shot back. "Won't we, Angel?"  
  
"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel asked.  
  
"Why are you talking? Less talking, more staking," Cordelia said, flinging a hand at Spike. "He's dangerous."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes, sucking the cigerette back into his mouth and blowing a puff of smoke out. He peered at her. "Wait, I know you. You're one of the Scoobs. You used to date Harris."  
  
"So?" Cordelia threw back her hair, her arms akimbo.  
  
"You know he's shagging a vengeance demon now?"  
  
"Serves him right," Cordelia said then realized she was actually carrying on a conversation with Spike. "What am I doing?" She spun on her heel and stalked back to the desk.  
  
"Why are you here, Spike?" Angel asked, managing to keep his voice level.  
  
"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd look you up." Spike lost some of his arrogance then. Angel wondered at that. Spike, looking a little humbled. A little hopeless. He saw himself mirrored in that stance, those shifting, tired eyes. The shuffle of his feet.  
  
Buffy'd mentioned Spike briefly, when he'd seen her last. Spike, helping her. It boggled the mind then. It still did. But Spike, standing in the hotel foyer, looking like death warmed over, showed the truth of her words. He grieved. Spike grieved for Buffy. An echo of Giles' voice floated through Angel's mind, vampires and Slayers, loving each other and the tragedy of it all. There was no doubt for Angel. Spike loved Buffy. He would have never ventured into this city, not after Angel had claimed it for his own, not even to get Dru back. Well, maybe to get Dru back. But Spike here, now, taking furtive puffs on that damned cigerette, looking lost and confused and anything but the Big Bad. This was new.  
  
Angel wondered how long it would last.  
  
"Try again," he said.  
  
Spike shot him a furious glare. "Why doesn't anyone believe me?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know, maybe because all you've ever tried to do is kill any of us?" Angel asked, gesturing towards the others behind him, though he meant, of course, himself; Buffy.  
  
"I've changed." Spike's voice fell, soft, not a plea. More like the echo of an argument he'd had with someone. Angel was willing to bet that someone had been Buffy. The idea that Spike'd been close enough to argue with Buffy went through him like a hot iron. Spike had been there, when Buffy jumped. When Buffy'd saved the world. Again. Spike had been fighting with her, for her, for her friends. He'd been in another dimension, battling his inner demon. Which battle meant more, on the grand scheme of things?  
  
"I've heard."  
  
Spike jerked his head up at those words, his eyes showing a faint glimmer of hope. "I have, Angel," he said. "I even gave up Dru for the Slayer. Offered to stake her."  
  
Angel blinked, nonplussed. There was some sort of Spike story there, one he knew for certain Spike would be happy to tell, if someone would listen. He was quite sure he didn't want to know. "All right, Spike. Tell us what you're here for."  
  
"We aren't going to stake him?" Cordelia's voice came shrilly from behind him.  
  
"Don't we stake vampires at all any more?" Gunn asked, disgusted.  
  
"As head of Angel Investigations," Wesley said, "I must protest."  
  
Spike came down the stairs and sidled up to Angel. "You have to put up with these wankers?"  
  
"They're my friends," Angel said, through gritted teeth.  
  
"Huh. Your own little Scooby gang. Slayer infected you too well, didn't she?"  
  
Angel plucked the cigerette from Spike's mouth and crushed it between his fingers. "Rule number one, Spike," he said. "No smoking in the hotel."  
  
"Bloody hell," Spike said, though the snarl was more for effect than anything else.  
  
"Number two, no menacing my friends."  
  
"Not even a little?" Spike peered around Angel's bulk. "I mean, the toff probably deserves it."  
  
"His name is Wesley. This is Gunn. You know Cordelia." Angel indicated them in turn. "You hurt any of them, you look cross-eyed at any of them, I'll throw you into the sun myself." He gestured at the smaller man. "This is Spike."  
  
"William the Bloody?" Wesley's face scrunched up, then cleared. "You're William the Bloody? Angel, we can't have him here. He'll eat the customers."  
  
Spike gave Angel a look that said, See? Angel ignored him. "Spike's safe right now."  
  
"What, he had his fangs pulled?" Gunn asked, studying the smaller vampire closely.  
  
"Pretty much," Spike said. He tapped his temple. "Gotta chip in my head. Listen, I'm going to tell you this once, all of you. I was helping Buffy. Really helping. We were...close."  
  
Angel's hand itched to smack Spike on the back of his head for saying such a thing. He restrained himself.  
  
"She trusted me, she did, with Dawn. With her mum. Her friends. She came to me when Commando Boy left. Me." He hooked a thumb at his chest, sneering at the others.  
  
The idea that she'd gone to Spike was...probably not as strange as it might seem. Buffy'd hated to burden her friends. She'd felt she could say anything to him and while he might not understand, at least he'd listen. Maybe she felt the same way about Spike. Angel squelched the hot flame of jealousy in his gut. If Buffy had needed Spike, he'd be happy that Spike had been there for her. The fact that he should've been there, that she shouldn't have needed Spike, wasn't worth brooding over.  
  
"Spike!" a voice shrieked at the top of the stairs and they all turned in surprise as Dawn flew down them, running across the lobby to throw herself at the blond vampire.  
  
He caught her though she nearly knocked him off balance, staring over the top of her head at Angel. A faint challenge lingered in his eyes, daring Angel to pull Dawn away.  
  
"Eww," Cordelia said, her face scrunching up. "That's just wrong." She beckoned at the girl. "Dawn, come away from him. You don't know where he's been."  
  
"Leave her alone, Cordy," Angel said.  
  
"What, we're just going to let him...what exactly are we letting him do?" Cordelia asked, not liking this situation at all.  
  
Spike led Dawn to the couch and sat her down on it, draping an arm around her shoulders. Not at all predatory, more like an older brother. Angel just managed not to drop his jaw on the floor. That the Slayer's sister would be snuggled up to one of the more monstrous creatures of the known world was almost more than he could take. Still, look at whom her sister had dated. He'd racked up his own number of kills over the years and Buffy had loved him.  
  
Dawn obviously trusted Spike and if anyone knew the Key still existed, he might need all the help he could get, keeping her safe. "Spike's staying," Angel said.  
  
"Oh, I must protest," Wesley said.  
  
"Figures," Spike muttered.  
  
Wesley shot him a glare. "Angel, I know this is a very trying time for you and Dawn. I'm not sure that...this...distraction will be of any good to either of you, or for that matter, any of us."  
  
"I hear that," Gunn said.  
  
"Me, too. He threatened to kill me!" Cordelia said, flinging a hand at Spike, as if there were any doubt.  
  
"Let bygones be bygones, pet," Spike said. "I can't hurt any humans now, only demons. Just like soul-boy, there." He gestured at Angel.  
  
"Angel does those things because he's good," Cordelia said.  
  
"Spike's good," Dawn said, leaping off the couch, her eyes blazing. "He-he tried to save me from Doc. He would've, too, except Doc was too strong."  
  
"Rousing endorsement, niblet," Spike said. "I don't think she'll buy it, though."  
  
"We aren't letting you stay here," Cordelia said, folding her arms.  
  
Spike shrugged. "Don't have to," he said. "There's all sorts of places a fellow like me can find to hole up."  
  
"Spike stays." Dawn and Angel spoke at the same time.  
  
"Angel," Wesley began.  
  
Dawn looked at Angel, her expression furious. He held up a finger to her, cautioning her and turned to the others. "Guys, come here." He walked them a little ways from Dawn and Spike, gathering them into a little huddle. "Dawn could be considered very valuable by some people. Buffy obviously trusted Spike to protect her. Dawn trusts Spike to protect her. I can't watch her twenty-four-seven. It would be a good idea to have back-up, whether we personally like him or not."  
  
Cordelia peered around Angel. "On the record? I hate this idea."  
  
"I concur, Angel," Wesley said. "What if...whatever happened to him that makes him 'good' reverses itself? We'll have William the Bloody again."  
  
"You know how well that worked out last time," Cordelia reminded, "or does the memory of torture just fade with you?"  
  
"Trust me, I remember," Angel said grimly. "But Willow even said Spike helped battle the hell-god. Look at it this way, at least we'll know where he is."  
  
"Wait a minute," Gunn said. "This guy tortured you?"  
  
"I'm his grandsire. It's a dominance thing," Angel said, shrugging.  
  
"What?" Gunn asked, rocking back.  
  
"Eww," Cordelia smacked Angel on the chest. "That's just gross. M.I.T.N."  
  
"William the Bloody was part of Angel's, er, pack, shall we say, when he was Angelus," Wesley said, obviously trying to fill Gunn in the fastest way possible.  
  
"They aren't going to start peeing on the furniture, are they?" Gunn asked. "'Cause it's not in my contract to clean up after vampires."  
  
Cordelia made an even more graphic noise of disgust. "If that happens, we are so taking Angel Investigations and leaving."  
  
"You three, deal," Angel said, folding his arms. "Dawn stays, Spike stays. Wes, I still need Lindsey. I want to get those papers drawn up as soon as possible. If Wolfram and Hart have any idea that Dawn's here, they could cause trouble." He paused, glancing around the room. Someone was missing. "Where's Fred?"  
  
"Kate came by and took her out. I called her while you were upstairs. We thought it might be good for both of them. Kate can still do research and help Fred find her family." Cordelia gave him a look, as if to say she could handle the reins all by herself.  
  
"Good job, Cordelia. Remind Wes to give you a raise." He hid a grin as he passed by the flustered man.  
  
"Now see here, Angel," Wesley began.  
  
"I think I like that idea," Cordelia said. "Wesley, now that you're my boss, I think we need to talk salaries."  
  
Angel went back to Spike and Dawn, both sitting on the couch again. "You didn't let me know you were leaving," she accused Spike.  
  
"I know, niblet. I'm sorry. I just thought, you know, come to L.A., look up some old friends," Spike trailed off. "Got it all sorted out, then?"  
  
"As sorted as it will be, for the time being." Angel looked both of them over.  
  
"Huh. Where've you been, anyway? I've been watching this place for a week," Spike said, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette. He stopped at Angel's glare and settled for lacing his fingers behind his head.  
  
"We had a problem in another dimension."  
  
"Ah. Knew there had to be some reason you weren't there, at the battle." Spike sagged. "Sorry, pet," he said, genuinely concerned, patting Dawn's shoulder.  
  
"It's okay," she said tiredly and looked up at Angel. "So, what was so important in the other dimension?"  
  
"Do you really want to hear?" he asked.  
  
"Oo, a story," Spike said, his tone only faintly sarcastic. "Do tell."  
  
"I can still throw you out of here," Angel said.  
  
"Shut up, Spike and be nice. Angel, we'd like to hear your story." Dawn turned a fierce look on the blond seated next to her. "Wouldn't we."  
  
"Yeah. Tell us." Spike tore his eyes from the girl and raised them to Angel. Anything, his eyes seemed to plead. Anything to make us forget, for a little while.  
  
Angel gave in. "All right. First I have to tell you about Lorne, the host at Caritas. He's a demon, with psychic ability but he can only read you if you sing for him." As he warmed to the story, the explanation finally came to him as to why he hadn't been where he should have been, fighting at the back of the Slayer. Angel realized he had been where he was needed at that time.  
  
It wasn't enough to ease the guilt, but it was a start. 


End file.
